I have noted with some delight that the movie Network has made its way back into the contemporary conversation, so I happily gave myself the task of revisiting this 1976 satire with a couple of friends and relating it to our current situation. It turns out I gave myself a more difficult assignment than I was expecting.
When I began, I thought I might find it easy to focus on the character of Howard Beale. Beale is an anchorman on a fictional fourth network, competing against ABC, CBS, and NBC. His life is falling apart at the outset of the movie, but in his shattered state, he becomes a voice for the frustration of his audience. He is deemed “the mad prophet of the airwaves” and instead of delivering the news, he spews his delusions on an adoring group of followers who respond to his tirades with applause and occasional action. His show becomes the news, and at its peak includes segments like a supposed psychic predicting the future, a fabulously dressed woman revealing people’s dirty secrets, and Vox Populi, an opinion poll.
“It is,” Roger Ebert said in his 2000 review, “like prophecy. When Chayefsky created Howard Beale, could he have imagined Jerry Springer, Howard Stern, and the World Wrestling Federation?”
Ten years after Mr. Ebert’s review, I stand more amazed as I think of the news personalities branding themselves on every 24-hour news channel.
It would also be easy to talk about the obvious lack of changes in our culture since 1976. The things that troubled Beale’s audience trouble us today: oil, corruption, problems with the food chain, pollution in the air we breathe, crime, and the fear of other nations taking over our country. All of these are still causing us trouble 34 years later. Beale’s general frustration with the state of our society would resonate with many people today, and so it seems we have not made much headway.
Beyond these things found on the surface, we can see other truths: the weariness that sets in amongst the professionals who are handling the news; how situations and people are manipulated for gain; how reality becomes fictionalized and how that can leave a person feeling in control, but cold. So many aspects of life are poked at here — it should be easy, I thought. I’ll just pick one. But satire has its own agenda, so I didn’t pick a moment. It picked me.
The scene features Diana Christiansen, Vice-President of Programming, calling on Max Schumacher, head of the news division. She comes to him because she wants to program the news, specifically by writing some better apocalyptic doom material for Howard Beale and adding some more suspense elements to the show. At first he thinks she’s kidding, but she’s not. And before he can throw out any argument about why this is a terrible idea, she says:
I watched your 6 o’clock news today, it was straight tabloid. You had a minute and a half of that lady riding naked in Central Park; on the other hand, you had less than a minute of hard national and international news. It was all sex, scandal, brutal crimes, sports, children with incurable diseases, and lost puppies. So I don’t think I’ll listen to any protestations about high standards of journalism when you’re out on the streets soliciting audiences like the rest of us. Look, all I’m saying is, if you’re going to hustle, at least do it right.
In my circle of friends, no one thinks “the news” is delivering news. I think of stories aired that inform the public there are germs in their washing machines, funded by the makers of bleach; stories that cover reality TV shows; hours of speculations on motives and conspiracies. Like Howard Beale, I am mad. Like Max Schumacher, I am tempted — tempted to pine for the good old days, when journalism meant something . . . and then I hear this speech, quit romanticizing, and really remember.
We sometimes give our yesterdays more honor than they are due. While there may have been more restraints in place in the past, journalists have always sought an audience. Newspapers, back when there were newspapers, depended on ad revenue. Television depends on ad revenue. Ad revenue depends on an audience, readers or viewers or page-clickers. It’s the dirty truth of media: if you are dependent on commercials, you need to deliver a committed audience. Prevailing wisdom says that to keep an audience, you need to spend some time giving them some adult sugar–stuff that isn’t useful or good, but keeps them watching.
So now what? I have no illusions that going back will solve this problem. The content may be more lurid, the personalities more defined, the grab for money and prestige more desperate and untempered, but the weight has been and unceasingly will be carried by us, the audience. Our burden? To think about what we are consuming. We have to ask ourselves, why do we watch what we watch? Is there more to the story than we can glean from 90 seconds of TV or web coverage? What should we be most attentive to, and what can we let go? What are the other perspectives?
With today’s technology, we can gather sensational stories from around the globe, but of what value is that? It is good to be informed, but is there more to it? Does news shape what we think is worthy of action? How often do we skip what is local and embrace that which is sensational, and thus find ourselves swept up by the sound and the fury, signifying nothing? Is there another way?
Revered works of art hold up over time. Effective satire makes us laugh, even as it calls us to reconsider our ways. Network proves itself to be both.
Please note that Network contains strong language and adult situations. As such, it may not be appropriate for everyone. Special thanks to Carol Reed and Jennifer Beltramo for their contributions to this article.
